


Gold to Airy Thinness Beat

by CheshireMoon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Caretaker Dean, Castiel has cancer, Doctor Crowley, Dying Castiel, Feels, Hospitals, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Nurse Dean, Poetry, Professor Castiel, Sick Character, Sickfic, Tragedy, Tragic Romance, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5189153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireMoon/pseuds/CheshireMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/><b>Based on the 2001 film, ‘Wit.’</b><br/> </p>
  <p>    <i>‘Gold To Airy Thinness Beat’ is a tragedy.  It is about celebrating and discovering the essence of humanity.  Dr. Castiel Novak is a professor of 17th century poetry with an emphasis on the metaphysical works of John Donne.  He has always shunned the softer forms of humanity in favor of the often brutal and complex works of his favorite poet.  That is, until he finds out that he has late stage metastatic prostate cancer.  In his tenure in an experimental chemotherapy trial, he meets his primary care nurse, Dean Winchester, who holds the gentle element of humanity which he had previously spurned.  Despite his lifelong avoidance of staring Humanity in the face, Castiel finds that it is precisely what he needs.</i><br/></p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Gold to Airy Thinness Beat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RexxieConverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RexxieConverse/gifts).



  
_Death be not proud, though some have called thee  
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so,  
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,  
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.  
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,  
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,  
And soonest our best men with thee do go,  
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.  
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,  
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,  
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,  
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?  
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,  
And death shall be no more, death thou shalt die._  
~Death, Be Not Proud by John Donne (1633)

_Day Zero_

“Dr. Novak, you have late stage metastatic prostate cancer.” The words were spoken firmly and precisely. There was little to no sympathy or warmth to the lilt of the doctor’s rough-voiced British accent. Castiel preferred it that way. A weepy doctor would do him no good. It was better if such things were handled without quivers. No faltering now. Castiel let the man speak, throwing words filled with darkness at him. 

         _Insidious._

Castiel stared at the nameplate. It sat prettily on the desk, shining and obviously often cleaned. ‘Crowley Ahrimas,’ it read. A strange name for a strange doctor. Castiel had always been under the impression that doctors were filled with compassion. Dr. Ahrimas was either an outlier, or Castiel had fallen under the spell of a stereotype.

“Am I going too fast for you, Dr. Novak?” Dr. Ahrimas asked, re-capturing Castiel’s attention. With a thin lipped smile, the professor shook his head to indicate that the doctor should continue. And so he did. Castiel was given a list of options, though most of them were listed off with an air of non-importance. The last option presented, however, Dr. Ahrimas pressed onto him strongly. The doctor leaned forward, hands clasped together. If Castiel hadn’t known better, he would have thought the doctor looked almost excited. There was a spark to his eye, which Castiel instantly recognised. It was the spark of a man with passion for what he was talking about. Insatiable curiosity. A desire to know more. 

“This option is in its trial stage, so it is still very experimental. However, I truly believe it would be your best chance. It is the strongest treatment available to you. On top of that, it would be a fantastic contribution to our knowledge.”

         _Knowledge._

Castiel almost laughed. Even in illness, he was still greatly contributing scholarly pursuits. It seemed unavoidable in his life. From a young age, his studies had been the primary drive in his life. This had carried him forth into a life of learning. From studying under some of the greatest minds to being considered one of them, Castiel had always excelled. Absently, he must have verbally agreed to try the trial option, because Dr. Ahriman plowed on. He listened to the doctor prattle off too many medical terms to count. Only a few really stood out.

         _Pernicious side effects._

He managed to catch that the treatment would last eight months. In-patient for a week every month, with two weeks between to enjoy his pernicious side effects. To call Dr. Ahriman blunt would be to understate the situation completely. Castiel didn’t mind. He was in the practice of being blunt to his students. Brevity is the soul of wit, after all.

“Probably best that you don’t teach next semester,” the doctor suggested.

“Of course. It’s out of the question,” Castiel responded swiftly, giving a single shake of his head and another tight smile. Dr. Ahriman leaned back in his chair. Given the silence of the office, the squeak of the chair seemed incredibly loud.

         _Echo._

“This treatment requires much from you, Professor Novak,” the doctor stated plainly. He was watching Castiel intently, as if reading something in the professor’s face. Castiel allowed the examination. He felt hollow, and wondered what the doctor would read in that emptiness.

“It is very important that you take the full dose, every time. You must be very tough, Professor Novak. Can you be very tough?” The doctor seemed to hang on Castiel’s every breath, waiting for the response. 

“You needn’t worry,” Castiel told him quietly, giving a firm nod. 

“Good. Very good. Excellent.” A smile settled onto Dr. Ahriman’s face. The doctor seemed genuinely excited to have a test subject for the trial. Especially one that could be tough. 

         _Tough._

What a strange word. So many complexities in such a relatively small allotment of letters. An unneeded letter near the beginning, two letters that theoretically shouldn’t make the sound that they do. As always, the English language was strange and mysterious. No matter how much Castiel read it, studied it, analyzed it, there would always be something to turn his head. 

Such a small, convoluted word for such an impossible meaning. Being tough. The world implies strength, but gives no source from it. Little boys are told to be tough when they scrape their knee. Cartoon characters are said to be tough when they flex their animated muscles after saving the day. A math problem is said to be tough Perhaps context was more important to Castiel, but he thought it strange that the doctor would use it in such a serious situation.

The thought was shrugged off by the time Castiel got to his car after his meeting with Dr. Ahriman. In its place was left an emptiness.

When Castiel arrived home, it was severely altered. Nothing superficial had changed. There were no physical alterations. And yet, home felt different. Just as Castiel himself felt different.

         _Cancerous._

None of the furnishings had changed. There was still a clean swipe out of the dust on the book shelf where he’d laid his hand just that morning. The table was still littered with his books and papers. The chair he kept by the fire, plush and warm, was wholly unchanged. Yet, he couldn’t break the filter that Dr. Ahriman had put over his eyes.

He sunk down into his armchair, staring into the empty and cold fireplace. From the small table beside him, he picked up a small, but well worn collection of Donne’s work. In the dim light that streamed through the cracks in his curtains, he stroked the faux leather cover. It was just a small book. The pages were made of cream, the small place marker ribbon of chocolate. It was a delightful volume.

He flipped it open to the last place he had been reading through.

         _Death be not proud, though some have called thee_  
         _Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so..._

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction in a while. I decided to write it after recently rewatching a favourite movie of mine. It's a visceral, raw piece, but it's stunning and underrated.  
> Comments are always, always appreciated!


End file.
